LOPW
by Lilith1631
Summary: Le Obscure Prompt War  Me verses Cheryl Dyson see my favourite authors Four obscure prompts per fic, HarryDraco pairing, some random crap prompted, a 1500 word limit and as many rounds as needed until someone cries 'give! Who shall win!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I declared a prompt war against Dysonrules on LJ, also known as Cheryl Dyson on (see my favourite authors for her account). This is called the **Le Obscure Prompt war**. This is my story to round one; you can view her corresponding story at her account

**Words: **1093  
**Summary:** Written for Le Obscure Prompt War, Round One, to the following prompts: Gingerbread, baskets, ice and horses

**37 Days Later**

Harry was a bit of a romantic. Draco didn't hold it against him because it meant that doing 'spontaneously sappy surprises' got him brownie points and with any luck, an hour and a half worth of tongue action.

However, reality had it that these spontaneous surprises were not so spontaneous after all. Draco planned a new romantic gesture in advance to occur every thirty seven days. Thirty seven was a good, nice number that was small enough to make Draco appear an attentive boyfriend, and a big enough number to create a nice inconspicuous gap between his romantic exploits to make him appear as 'spontaneous' as he wasn't.

Today the kitchen calendar proudly prompted that Draco had to pay homage to his mother's birthday. Little did Harry know when he left for work that Narcissa Malfoy had been twenty two for the last three decades and claimed Immaculate Conception to avoid any surprise birthday parties.

Draco had been preparing for his 'mother's birthday' for the last five days and when he woke up to find the bed empty and a wild gale beating against the window that was only typical to bloody England, he knew all his careful preparation went down the plughole.

He stood at the large lead-paned windows and watched the wind sway the tree tops till they bent to the floor, made the house groan and women's skirts blow up by their waists as they waded through the streets. Draco watched the weather with a note of frustration, and Mother Nature didn't seem pleased with his petulance. The clouds opened and the heavens wept upon the world. Draco growled. Damn rain.

Accepting the gauntlet, Draco turned his back on the dismal weather and went into his walk-in wardrobe. Harry never ventured in there because he seemed to have a phobia against good fashion. Reaching to the top shelf, nestled between his colour-coded folded ties and coiled belts, Draco pulled out a wicker hamper basket.

As careful as he was trying to be, the shelf was very high and he…wasn't. So, as he pulled the basket from it's hidey-hole, it caught a couple of belts and ties which rained down upon his carefully styles just-fucked coif. Placing the basket on the floor, Draco plucked a belt from his head. The buckle was a brass horse, caught in stationary as it bucked it's rider odd, and it was accompanied by the printed motto '_Bareback Baby_!' along the length. Draco chuckled and threaded it through his belt loops.

_xxx_

Ellen fancied him. Harry may be oblivious but he was certainly not blind, and as she offered him the extra chair at the office conference dinner for later that night, Harry felt weary.

Smiling, he replied as politely as possible, "Erm…no thank you. Draco has got his mother's birthday today and he'll need someone to punch when he gets home. Sorry."

Quickly employing the snatch-and-run technique back to his office, Harry cursed under his breath as each long stride made hot liquid slop over the rim of his cup and douse his fingers with the brilliant life-juice that was coffee. Ellen was shouting something from behind him but her words were cut off as he slid into his office and slammed the door closed. Harry would have sighed in relief at the narrow escape but a squeak of surprise was the only thing that escaped as he took in the scene before him.

His desk and chairs, filing cabinet and small sofa had been pushed back against the walls. The floor space in the middle of the room was taken up by a large blanket with its flurry fibres charmed as fresh grass, and spread across the patch of greenery, next to a large basket was Draco. Munching on a gingerbread man that was wiggling its arms and legs agonisingly until Draco pressed his pearly white teeth into the side of its head.

"Picnic?" suggested Draco, tilting his head to the basket. Harry didn't say anything because he had just spied the words printed around Draco's hips.

_xxx_

"Hurry, Harry!" cried Draco, wiggling him bum into the air impatiently. Harry smiled, leaning over Draco's sweat slicked back and reaching into the basket. Plates, cheese sandwiches, oranges…candy floss and marmite sandwiches…chocolate frogs and, aha! Harry pulled a large pitched of pumpkin juice out and placed it on the grass next to them. Dipping twp fingers into the juice, he fished about and drew an ice cube up from the side of the glass.

Draco looked over his shoulder at Harry sucking the excess pumpkin juice off a block of frozen water. With a little groan, he buried his face back into the lawn and waited.

"AAARGHEEE! FUCK, THAT'S COLD!"

_xxx_

"Ssh!" hissed Harry, slapping a hand over his boyfriend's mouth.

"Harry? Harry?"

"Yes, Ellen?" The door handle rattled and there was a thud against the door, then Ellen said through the door.

"Erm…I just wanted to tell you that Kingsley has called a meeting at three."

"Okay!" called Harry, wishing Ellen would go away because Draco was biting the web between his thumb and forefinger. Ellen's shadow shifted about under the doorframe and then disappeared. Harry waited just a moment to check she had really gone before prising his hand from between Draco's teeth.

"You total brute! Why not just put a collar on me and buy me a ball gag, and - DOTHATHARDER!YES!"

_xxx_

"Loop the loop, and through the hoop, that's how Malfoy's enslave them," sang Draco as he knotted the tie around his neck. Harry could only smile from the blanket, it was terribly cute and terribly tyrannical.

Draco finished tying the tie and pulled it up over his head. He waltzed over to Harry with a sway of his hips. Slipping the tie over Harry's head and yanking it taunt around his neck, he patted the tapered ends against Harry's stomach. Harry's felt finger nails scratch his abs briefly through the gaps of his buttons.

Harry grinned back at Draco as he winked and closed the door behind him. The room was quiet and hot and the odour of sex would linger for hours, leading his mind to wonder unproductively for the rest of the day. Soaking up the atmosphere for a moment, Harry then pulled open the top drawer of his desk. Pulling out a little black calendar, Harry began to flick through the pages, counting out thirty seven days until his next romantic surprise, a small smile on his face.

_Fin._


	2. Round 2

**Author's Note: **I declared a prompt war against Dysonrules on LJ, also known as Cheryl Dyson on (see my favourite authors for her account). This is called the **Le Obscure Prompt war**. This is my story to round one; you can view her corresponding story at her account

**Words:** 1065 words  
**Summary: **Written for Le Obscure Prompt War, to the following prompts; Hot air balloon, elastic bands, Anubis and jail

**Mile High **

Draco looked from one freckled face to the other and raised an eyebrow. "Are you joking?" he asked, quite right to question whether they were pulling his leg or not.

"Honestly, mate," grinned George, pointing to the picture, "They're real. And we're always wanted to go on one, and as it was your birthday…" George pulled on the elastic band around Draco's chin, and snapped it back, making the purple party cone-hat wobble on his head. Draco yelped and lurched forward with the intent of band-snapping revenge, when another Weasley with an identical purple hat to his, which clashed horribly with his hair, stepped in.

"We had three tickets when we ordered," said Fred, fending off the enraged Slytherin, "But Jordan is scared of heights, so we thought you'd like it."

"Also, we didn't know what else to get you," said George, waving his hand to the mountains of presents piled up in the corner of the living room.

"So what do you say?" asked both the twins, echoing one another in perfect synchronisation.

"Why not just use a broom?" asked Draco, looking down at the picture wearily.

Fred and George looked at one another, dumbfounded. Draco was not placated with the reply: "Why not?," so they dragged Harry over to explain the logistics of a hot air balloon.

_xxx_

The idea of roaming above unsuspecting Muggles had appealed to Draco. As he sat on the sofa, filling the new bottomless-bottom bag he had gotten from Granger with all the presents that he deemed unworthy of his attention or storage space, Draco was forming a malicious plan to fill up his evil quota for the day. Whoever had condoned the idea of two Weasleys, a Malfoy, and a hot air balloon had obviously miscalculated greatly.

That person was Harry Potter.

"Here you are," said Harry, bringing out a little plastic sandwich bag from the kitchen. Draco had just stuffed a florescent pink umbrella, courtesy of that stupid overgrown oaf Harry insisted on being friends with, into the bag before a pair of sealed pickle and cheese sandwiches were dangled in front of his face. Feigning innocence and gratitude, Draco put the sandwiches in the bag, wishing they were strawberry jam and ham.

"Thanks."

"Got a coat?"

Draco looked over the back of the sofa and raised an eyebrow, "Why would I need a coat?"

"You might get cold."

"Fine, fine, mother. I'll pack a sodding coat," grumbled Draco, standing up to get his coat from the bedroom.

He removed his coat from the back of the door and just as he was about to leave, Draco's eyes fixed upon the selection of souvenirs that sat on the chest of drawers next to the door. Grinning, Draco swept the mementos of New York, Cairo, Barcelona, Madrid and Tokyo into the folds of his coat. He snuck back into the living room, one ear listening to Harry whistle while he washed plates, and stowed away his coat and contents into the bag.

_xxx_

It was about the size of a double bed and Draco wondered if the wicker's weave would disintegrate at high altitudes, and they would all fall through the bottom of the basket, plummeting to their certain deaths. And he didn't care how big that balloon was, it certainly wouldn't support a double bed or him.

"I'm not getting in that," stated Draco firmly. Both twins smirked and grabbed an elbow. Digging his heels into the soft grass, Draco shook his head, "Oh no! I'm not going in that death trap."

"Come on, imagine you're a feather," said Fred, coercing the blonde along.

"Feather?"

"Yeah, a feather. The lighter you think you are, the higher you'll go," finished George, winking over the blonde head at his brother.

"GET OFF OF ME, YOU CRAZY GINGER CRET -"

In no time at all, Draco found himself in the basket that was suspended over some little Muggle town called 'Whinging' and hugging his bag to his chest for dear life. Every time one of the blasted twins leaned over the edge, Draco would let out a little screech of horror and demand they remain in the centre of the parameter before they were all poured to the ground below.

However, Draco's irrational fear only lasted as long as the novelty did. Looking over the edge, he opened his bag.

_xxx_

Harry had done all the housework and he was feeling terribly bored, lonely and frustrated. Unreasonably wishing that one of the twins had forfeited their ticket so that he and Draco could have had a romantic high-sky ride together, Harry was forced to settle for watching the six o' clock news. Turning on BBC1, he sunk into the sofa and dully watched about the current MRSA problem in hospitals.

"…More from that next week. And in other news, earlier today, a rather unusual police pursuit occurred over the town of Birmingham." Tthe news presenter's smile was cut off as a footage clip appeared on screen, obviously shot from a helicopter. The presenter's voice bridged the image. "Earlier today, police were engaged in a slow speed pursuit with a hot air balloon. The occupants of the ride had been throwing objects down below and endangering many civilians. Car pursuit seemed fruitless, and helicopters could not get near enough for fear of sweeping the balloon up in the blades. They, instead, had to wait till they ran out of gas…"

Harry watched in horror as scenes appreared of police cars dawdling along hedged roads after a red and blue striped hot air balloon, with helicopters flying at a respectable distance. A close up of the occupants confirmed Harry's worst suspicions, and he was even more horrified to see Draco flinging the statue of Anubis he had bought in Cairo over the edge of the basket, police cars swerving to avoid it's shattered pieces below.

"…Pursuit went on for five hours before the balloon finally touched down in Glasgow. Occupants are awaiting conviction in a county jail. That's all from London Tonight, join us again at nine. Goodnight."

Harry jumped up and grabbed his wand.

_xxx_

"Well, what do you have to say for yourselves?" asked Harry, looking through the bars at the three relieved faces as an officer unlocked their cell.

"Lady Liberty sure bounced high," Draco said with a grin, stepping out into freedom.

_Fin_


	3. Round 3

**Author's Note: **I declared a prompt war against Dysonrules on LJ, also known as Cheryl Dyson on (see my favourite authors for her account). This is called the **Le Obscure Prompt war**. This is my story to round one; you can view her corresponding story at her account

**Words: **1,109  
**Summary:** Why would God make a bird that cannot fly? Written for Le Obscure Prompt War between myself and Lady Dyson to the following **prompts:** A rusty lock, a conch shell, penguins, traffic cones

**When Penguins Fly**

Draco snorted so loudly that vodka sprayed up his nostrils and burned his weepy eyes. Pulling his face out of his drink, Draco collapsed on the sticky bar, tears splashing onto the ring stains that were slicked on the oak bar top. "You cannot be serious!"

"I am serious," insisted Harry, seriously. He picked up another shot glass and downed the murky liquid, letting it slide with an awful aftertaste down his throat. Draco continued to weep on the bar.

"I don't believe you! That's like saying hippogriffs have pink toenails. You're just making stuff up."

"I am serious," repeated Harry.

Draco straightened up and tapped the bar, indicating that another glass was needed to cover the face imprint he had left. "There is no such thing as a bird that cannot fly."

When Harry had brought Malfoy to this Muggle bar to demonstrate how Muggles celebrated a raise at work, Draco had become steadily drunk, because while he could calculate the number of units in a butterbeer, that didn't mean he knew that eight shots of vodka would lead him to think Harry Potter was a sexy belly dancer from Yugoslavia. While plucking up the courage to ask that dark-haired beauty to make his belly muscles do the Mexican wave, Draco had noticed the stuffed sword fish mounted onto the wall. This had lead to the discussion 'didn't Muggle animals see their reflections when they chose to evolve?'

Harry had merely shrugged and said, "It's the way God made them."

Now, three hours nearer to midnight than when they had first sat down, they were both drunk and arguing about penguins. Harry believed God forgot to give them the ability of flight, and Draco believed Harry was bullshitting.

"I'm telling the truth. They're called penguins."

"Prove it!" challenged Draco, knocking back another shot with the aggression of someone who knew he was being lied to. Harry stood up and grabbed Draco's wrist, tugging the blonde to his wobbly legs and marching them out of the pub. The street was cold and the only source of light was from the pub windows, which reflected on nearby set of road works.

"Where we going?" mumbled Draco, tripping slightly as Harry marched them past a batch of traffic cones.

"To the zoo."

"Okay…is it a long way?"

"Twenty minute walk," shrugged Harry. He walked a little way and when he didn't hear echoing footfalls, he looked over his shoulder in time to see Draco about to Apparate. "Oh my god, what are you doing?! You can't drink and Apparate! You'll splinch yourself. Give me your wand."

"No!"

"Give me your wand."

"Shove off, you dishmat!"

"Dishmat?"

"Dingbat," corrected Draco, cradling his wand to his chest protectively. Harry sighed and relinquished his quest for the other man's phallic tool.

"Okay, fine. Keep it, just don't Apparate."

"But I hate walking… Carry me?"

_xxx_

The large rusty lock was no challenge for a wizard. Any quick Alohomora would quickly deal with the pesky restriction. However, neither Harry nor Draco had enough blood in their veins to even pronounce the spell, let alone do the little wrist wiggle that accompanied the incantation. So instead, they climbed the fence. Harry had the absolute pleasure of pushing Draco's bum up while the blonde scrambled over the top.

He might have pinched once or twice, taking delight in the little squeals the Auror had made.

The zoo was blissfully empty and it took them a while to navigate themselves over to the aquatic section of the park. Once they had found the penguin pen, they stood at the rim of the icy habitat and looked down. It looked empty.

"I think they flew away."

"They can't fly away," sighed Harry, leaning over and looking down into the faux ocean. He could see nothing, and just as he was about to give up and believe that penguins had overcome their evolutionary defect, something spiky hit him on the top of the head. The conch shell ricocheted off his head and fell into the water below. Spinning around, Harry just had time to see Draco aiming another hazardous shell, and ducked. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to scare the bloody pigeons out. Get out of my way!" As Draco threw stones, shells and abandoned shoes into the water to lure out the black and white poultry, Harry stood and appreciated the flex of muscles that was revealed when Draco's shirt lifted up after each throw.

Just as Harry was about to grab Draco and drag him into the zebra exhibition for a back-to-nature romp, a flashlight shone in their direction and a loud voice bellowed over far side of the sector at them. "HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Harry, look! It's a butler-bird! Is that a penguin?" Harry dragged Draco away from the petulant penguins and set off at a run towards the gates. Draco was too busy stumbling over his own alcohol addled brain to keep pace, but they managed to hurdle the gate just as the night time security guard gained on their heels. They continued to run back the path they came, afraid that the police would be notified. Harry grinned over his shoulder at Draco as they ran back past the road works. All this danger was sort of exciting.

_xxx_

Draco squinted into the morning light that shone from the window onto his pillow. Feeling like a vampire, he rolled onto his other side and groped blindly for his sleep-warmed boyfriend. As his fingers spread out across the sheets, his fingers came in contact with another shape…however…as much as he liked to brag that his boyfriend had the abs of a rock, this was going a little too far. Reluctantly rising up a little, Draco whipped the blankets back and was confronted with something even brighter that offended his eyes more than sunlight. A traffic cone. Its peak was nestled into Harry's pillow and the square base was tenting the covers like a morning erection. Draco wondered if the cone and himself had snuggled somewhere in the night. Draco then reevaluated the cone, gazing at the phallic end of the smooth, florescent orange monstrosity and flexed his muscles, feeling a worryingly familiar ache that made him suspicious.

_xxx_

"Harry, did you fuck me last night?"

"Why? Too drunk to remember?" asked Harry moodily, nursing his own hangover.

"There's a traffic cone in the bed and my bum hurts. I have come to the conclusion that I either found you attractive in my inebriated state, or I've done something that violates the Highway Code."

Harry just continued to nurse a bottle of aspirin.

_Fin._


	4. Round 4Wounded

**Author's Note: **I declared a prompt war against Dysonrules on LJ, also known as Cheryl Dyson on (see my favourite authors for her account). This is called the **Le Obscure Prompt war**. This is my story to round one; you can view her corresponding story at her account

**Summary: **Post-War, Harry fancies himself nervous  
Written for the **prompts:** St. Johns Wort, macaroni, thumbtacks, and a caterpillar

**Nervous**

Harry snatched a basket and whizzed off down the nearest aisle. He had sent Draco off to a nearby café with a crisp twenty in his hand, and hoped in vain that it would give him half an hour to shop in peace without the blonde nuisance dogging his every step. Holland and Barrett's was a little slice of paradise for Harry. It was a shop that sold all of his needs in little packets and bottles at reasonably unfair prices, and for the last couple of years, Harry made fortnightly visits to the store to stock up on all his remedies.

That's right. Remedies. Since the war…or possibly since the first time Draco had attempted to frisk him in the middle of a battlefield, Harry fancied himself nervous.

Once upon a time his hands were steady, and his face was always lit with a confident smile, and people used to look up at him and know he was a strong, young soldier fighting for the cause. Now he was just plain nervous. His anxiety disorder had definitely worsened since dating Draco. But after five years of the blonde menace, and though Harry loved him very much, he definitely needed something to calm his disposition otherwise his partner would educe cardiac arrest.

Harry strode quickly past the shelves of weight management, the hair care and facial products, until he came to the second aisle. Oh the second aisle. A small glimmer of hope on the horizon. Slowly, Harry began to pace up and down, looking for familiar bottles and packets.

The first item to enter his basket was crystallized ginger, often used to dissuade nausea symptoms. Harry suffered from nausea every time he allowed Draco to drive the car, and a packet of the sugared root was kept in the glove compartment. Four hundred grams of the little bag did not last long, since Draco had got his provisional license through the post. He also chucked in a box of Rosemary Pure Essential Oils because the illusion aromatherapy was always needed when Draco was generous enough to give a grind-your-bones-into-dust massage.

Within five minutes of shopping, the basket was cluttered high.

A bottle of Optimum Oil Blend for a natural supplement of fatty acids, because Harry forgets to obtain enough in his diet. He was always anxious that his food might be poisoned, and so had resorted to being a vegie. Packet of Pumpkin Seeds, two hundred grams of Cashew nuts, Dried Goji berries, a bottle of Tea Tree Oil that relieved stress during bath time, and some herbal tea bags. And Prelox tablets to increase blood flow to the penis, because how could anyone possibly expect to maintain an erection while the bitchy bottom yells out things like, 'I think your belly button just winked at me' or 'don't squash Gilbert'?

Harry was just picking up his bottle of St Johns Wort tablets that helped him with his anxiety headaches when a loud voice echoed over the shop, making Harry duck behind the sachets of plant extracts, hoping to conceal himself. "Hello tree huggers! Sprout! You in here?!"

Harry groaned. _How embarrassing_. 'Sprout' was the nickname Draco had affectionately dubbed Harry after he turned vegetarian two years ago. Straightening up, he saw Draco standing at the entrance of Holland and Barrett's with a Styrofoam container and a plastic fork in hand, both tools that would environmentally offend the founders of the shop. Draco smiled and made his way towards Harry.

"I thought you were eating at Maury's."

"I was," said Draco and he gestured to the food in his left hand. "I didn't fancy a dead pig today, so I grabbed something to go. Macaroni?" Draco offered a bit of yellow and pink on his fork to Harry, poking him in the cheek as Harry shook his head.

"No. That might have animal juices in it."

"Only ham," shrugged Draco, putting the forkful between his own lips. He chewed loudly and skewed another piece of pasta, eyeing up the bottle of St. Johns Wort tablets. "Why can't you use aspirin like normal people?"

"Do you know how many chemicals are in that?" replied Harry, throwing the bottle into the basket, knowing that by the time he reached the counter, he would have a headache. Harry continued to march along the aisles, racking up a small fortune in packets and potions while Draco violated the no-food rule. The rule was definitely violated when Draco threw his empty takeaway at another customer, yelling, "Dirty hippy!"

"Draco. Put the donkey penis down," sighed Harry, putting a bottle of soothing salts into the basket to counteract the trauma of his boyfriend joining his shopping venture. Draco petulantly placed the packet back on the self. Harry watched him suspiciously, making sure that Draco wasn't going to shoplift.

Instead, Draco pulled out something small and brown from his pocket, and Harry groaned. Putting the basket down, he moved over to Draco and hissed, "I cannot believe you brought him. Hide him or they'll never serve me again."

Draco cradled the small caterpillar away from Harry and replied in a voice equally like a wet cat, "No. He's sociable." Harry didn't care how sociable Gilbert was, he didn't want to be seen with a tortured caterpillar.

Gilbert was Draco's pet. Adopted after Draco had found it on one of the potted plants on their balcony, and he had quickly sorted the bug to be his new familiar after his owl had expired the year before. Harry thought Gilbert should be dead by now because firstly, he didn't believe a caterpillar could be a caterpillar for nine months without pupating, and secondly, Draco liked to stick thumbtacks in Gilbert to watch yellow pus come out. Harry had learnt to buy blue tack instead of thumbtacks to pin things up about the house. He was squeamish, and the idea that Draco had downgraded his torture techniques from humans to bugs since the war made him nervous. He'd rather live in ignorance of Draco's sadistic tendencies than have to add more tablets to his ever growing pill-popping routine.

"Put Gilbert away!" snapped Harry as they neared the tills. The headache was forming. Draco hugged Gilbert and made a distinctly rude gesture that made the checkout girl gasp.

Deciding that they needed to leave quickly before RSPCA were called, Harry jogged down the fourth aisle and quickly deposited two packages on top of the heap of organic medication in his basket. The first packet was 'Snoreeze' which Harry inconspicuously sprayed into Draco's mouth every night to stop his snoring. The packet proudly claimed to relax the throat muscles that led to snoring, and Draco always choked a little in his sleep, but never regained consciousness when Harry zapped him silent. The other packet was bought in conjunction with Snoreeze. 'Peace Night' were little herbal sleeping pills to help Harry ensure he didn't look like a zombie the next day because the damn Snoreeze didn't do what it said on the box.

Harry quickly returned to Draco at the checkouts and his chest constricted as he saw Draco's tear strained face. "Oh my god, what's wrong?"

Draco pointed an accusing finger at the checkout girl, "Gilbert was on the conveyer belt and she squished him!"

Sighing, Harry still fancied himself nervous.

_Fin_

* * *

**Author's Note:** I admit defeat. Lady Dyson is too worthy adversary for me to fight any longer. She has clearly won this war with her awe-inspiring Round Four, Colin's Revenge (View at her account)

This seems like the end of the war...but as history and Hitler have shown, peacetime is fleeting. I have already discussed the matter with Lady Dyson and she has accepted the challenge of another prompt war. Le Obscure Prompt War 2, shall be a Phrase war. Rules and submissions of this sequel war shall be notified to the community when I return from holiday (having to flee the country from Dyson's prowess shakes head in shame)

As Victor, Dyson has recieve one final prompt from me that she will read to the community on a poduim of gold and a bouquet in her arms! The following prompts for Lady Dyson's sprint across the victory line are thus: A stubby pensil, a box of Smarties, a corset, and a penalty prompt of 'hospital'.


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